


Down to the Wire

by Denise



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why were all those wires in the bomb yellow anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down to the Wire

* * *

Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

* * *

"Sir. We have a problem." Sargent Dan Siler looked up, turning off his torch and raising his thick face shield. They were going to be down to the wire getting the bomb done for SG-1 to take with them to Revanna. The last thing he needed was a problem. "We're out of red wire, " the Sargent reported, holding up an empty plastic spool with a pathetically short piece of red coated wire dangling from the end.

"There's more in the storeroom in level 21," he said absently, pulling the visor back down.

"No. Sir. There's not."

"Excuse me?" He looked up, pushing the mask back.

"This is from level 21. I think we used it all when we made that rocket," the woman explained.

Siler thought back and sighed. That's right. They had used a lot of resources helping NASA finish assembling the rocket parts on the G-Tau planet. "Well, just use some other wire."

"Major Carter's schematics specifically calls for red colored wire," the woman insisted.

Siler rolled his eyes and set down his torch. "Fine. I'll got over to Petersen and get some."

"Why not Fort Carson?" she asked, citing the Army base that was right across the road versus the Air Force Base on the other side of town.

"Because the paperwork associated with cross branch transfers will tie us up for days and we don't have that kind of time. SG-1 departs in less than twelve hours." He got up and pulled his shield off his head, ruffling his mashed hair. He absently glanced at his watch. "I need to grab a bite before the commissary closes anyway. I'll head over and be back in a couple of hours."

He secured his equipment and made his way from the work area to the elevators and the commissary. It was late and although the commissary never really closed, they did stop serving hot food and went to just sandwiches for the night crew.

The elevator dinged and he got in, tiredly pushing the button for the proper level. He stretched and groaned as his back popped. Lord, he was tired. Ever since word of the asteroid and Carter's plan had come down he and his team had been working almost non-stop to make the bomb needed to knock the rock off course.

And they were almost done, all they needed was to do the final wiring and it'd be ready to go with SG-1. 

The elevator door opened and he made his way down the corridor. He sniffed and smiled as his nose recognized lasagna. He smiled and picked up his pace. He loved Sargent Bertelli's home made lasagna. Entering the room, he grabbed a tray and made his way to the hot table.

"I was wondering if you were going to make it," Bertelli said, reaching for a plate out of the warmer.

"Yeah, me too," Dan agreed nodding as Bertelli served up the last portion of lasagna.

"Well you're in luck. Last serving," he said, setting the laden plate up on the glass ledge. 

Just as Dan reached his hand up to get it, a fatigue clad arm swept in and snagged the steaming plate of pasta. "Thanks Bertelli, you're a lifesaver," Jack O'Neill said, shooting the man a grin. "Got any garlic bread left?"

"Sir?" Bertelli looked at Siler who shrugged helplessly.

"Garlic bread. We're gonna be living on MREs for the next two weeks."

"Right here, sir." Bertelli snagged two pieces of thick buttery toast and placed them on a small plate, which he handed to the colonel. 

Jack took it and shot Bertelli a grateful smile. He then turned to Siler and frowned. "I'm sorry Sargent. I didn't mean to…"

"That's ok, sir," Siler excused.

Jack nodded and absently picked up a piece of garlic toast, taking a bite. "I thought you were working on the bomb?"

"We are, sir. We're almost done."

Jack picked up his tray in one hand and clapped Siler on the shoulder with the other. "Good job, Sparky," he said, walking away.

"Dan…"

"It's ok, Bertelli," Siler said, abandoning his tray. "I wasn't that hungry anyway." He turned and left the commissary not relishing the trip across town on an empty stomach. The way things were going he'd get to Petersen only to discover that they were out of red wire and he'd have to use the stuff they already had on hand.

Fighting the urge to slap himself on his forehead, he headed for the stairs. Taking them two at a time he made it back to the lab's level and hurried down the hall.

"That was fast," the Sargent said, looking up from her work. She stared at his empty hands. "Sir?"

Siler picked up the full spool of yellow wire. "Use this," he instructed.

"But Sargent, the plans call for…"

"I know what the plans call for but they're just going to blow it up. Wire is wire. Finish the bomb and I'll check the circuits when I get back." He grabbed his car keys off the counter. 

"Sir?" she asked, holding the spool up. "I really don't think…"

"Valentino's closes in an hour and I'm hungry."

"But Major Carter's schematics…" she insisted.

"Sargent, trust me. She'll be so busy tinkering with the ship she'll never even look inside the bomb. It'll blow up and no one will ever know. It's like that tattoo you told me about, if no one ever sees it, no one will ever care."

"If you say so," she replied skeptically.

"Yes, I say so. If anyone gives you any grief, tell them Sparky told you to do it."

  
~Fin~


End file.
